Random Stories of Sodor
by EDD17SP
Summary: Unrelated Thomas and Friends stories in the style of the Railway Series to be updated at irregular intervals. Now Showing: Boco's Chase. James's vanity has gotten the better of him again, resulting in a runaway. Now it's up to Boco to stop James before disaster can strike.
1. Pink At Morning

**For my usual followers: You guys still get notifications from me? After all this time? Really? If you're confused as to why I'm posting anything other than a Phineas and Ferb story, I've been working on two really, really long, in-depth stories for...wow, like two years now. But I have just lost all inspiration to write Phineas and Ferb. I still really hope to finish them both eventually. In the meantime, I'm trying something a little different. I hope maybe some of you will enjoy these stories, too.**

 **For new readers who have happened upon this story, I hope to write more soon. This is my first attempt at writing Thomas and Friends stories. I've tried to stylize them more like the original Railway Series stories than the television show. I hope you enjoy them.**

Pink at Morning

Duck, the Great Western Engine, is very proud of his branchline. In the summer months, he and Oliver take holiday makers to the seaside, and they also serve a small but very busy harbor. Large cargo and passenger ships are serviced by Brendam Docks, and the harbor on the Little Western serves the smaller ships. Donald and Douglas take turns shunting there and pulling the goods trains away to market while Duck and Oliver handle the branchline's passenger services.

When the weather turns cold and passenger traffic dies down, Oliver handles the passenger trains alone, and Duck takes over at the harbor. He loves the fresh sea breezes and salt air and the bustle of dock life, and working alone doesn't bother him. It allows him to do things his way. On occasion, though, he thinks of the times that he and Percy used to work together by the sea before he had his branchline, and he misses his friend.

One evening, his driver spoke to him. "There's going to be more ships than usual coming in tomorrow. Sir Topham Hatt is sending Percy here to help."

"Ah, good," Duck thought, and smiled. "A day working with Percy again. That will be lovely."

"The two of you work well together," said the driver. "I'm sure that you'll keep these docks running smoothly."

As the sun rose the next morning, Percy trundled along the Little Western. The sun shimmered against a deep rose sky.

"Wow, what a pretty sky," Percy said aloud.

"Yes, it is," his driver replied. "And I do not like it."

Percy was puzzled. "Why not?"

"Haven't you ever heard the old saying?" The fireman asked. "Pink at night, sailor's delight. Pink at morning…" he paused. "Sailor's warning," the driver finished.

"Sailor's warning?" Percy wondered.

"It means there's a storm coming."

Percy looked up again. "But there's not a cloud in the sky."

"Oh, there will be," the driver said. "You can count on it."

Soon the sun had fully risen and the pink sky had faded away to blue. Percy reached the harbor where Duck was waiting for him.

"Good morning, Percy. Good to see you!"

"And good morning to you, too, Duck. Say, have you ever heard…um…that saying? About the sky being pink? Something like 'Pink at night and…and your lamp will not light?'"

Duck chuckled. "'Pink at night, sailor's delight. Pink at morning, sailor's warning.' Yes, I've heard it. I guess that means you noticed the pink sky this morning."

"I did. I thought it was pretty. Driver didn't like it."

"He knows there's sure to be a storm coming."

The foreman arrived. "Stop gossiping, you two. There's work to be done."

"Forman is right," said Duck's driver. "There's a lot of ships coming into today and there's already loaded trucks ready to be sorted. We have to clear them away and bring in more for the cranes to load."

So, the two engines set to work. Percy was so busy that he soon forgot all about the sky superstitions. He and Duck would arrange lines of trucks, and Donald or Douglas would periodically show up to haul them away. More ships came, one right after another, to be unloaded, and more trains would be assembled. The sun shone and the sky was clear.

By four o'clock, the ships had all but stopped. Duck shunted a brake van onto the back of the last train they had assembled while Percy filled his empty tank from the water column nearby. As he sat idle for the first time all day, he felt a gust of wind on his face. It was not a gentle sea breeze, but a hard puff that blew from inland. He looked up at the sky.

"Oh, dear," he said.

"What is it, Percy?" asked the fireman as he clambered down from atop the small engine's boiler.

"Look at the sky!"

A thick blanket of dark clouds were rolling in from over the island. In the distance, a rumble of thunder echoed over the hills. Trees along the line, visible from the mouth of the harbor, began to sway as the wind began to pick up.

"Well, Percy," said the driver, "There's the result of your pink sky."

Duck rolled up alongside, the Foreman riding on his buffer beam. "The workman are securing everything," said the Foreman, "That storm is going to blow right through us. There's one last ship coming in, should be here within the hour, but the wind will likely be too strong for the cranes to safely unload it. We'll just moor it to the pier and unload it when the storm passes." He addressed the two crews. "You can leave, if you like."

Duck and Percy's drivers exchanged glances. "If it's all the same to you, sir," Duck's driver said, "I think we'll stay a bit longer. Just in case."

The Foreman jumped down from Duck's buffer beam. "Suit yourselves." And he walked back along the tracks, heading for his office.

Percy was worried. "Ooh, I hope the ship makes it here before the storm hits. It's going to be awfully rough out there."

"Don't worry, Percy," Duck replied. "I'm sure they'll be here any minute."

A few minutes later, Percy's fireman clambered back up atop Percy's boiler to remove the hose pipe. The wind was really picking up now, and he had to hold onto his hat to keep it from blowing away. Cloud cover had drifted overhead, and the sun had disappeared completely. He glanced out over the water, which was beginning to roil with whitecaps. In the distance, he could see a small ship, bobbing up and down as it headed slowly toward them. It was only about a mile away.

"I can see the last ship," the fireman called.

"Come on," said Duck's driver. "Let's go down closer to the key for a better look."

The two engines slowly headed for the keyside just as the first rain drops began to fall. By the time they had parked on a siding beside the dispatch office, the rain came down in heavy sheets. The sky was now pitch black.

The ship had nearly made it to the key. The wind blew hard and steady from the south, across the island and blew out again over the ocean. Breakers smashed against the small fishing vessel's bow. Percy and Duck watched as the boat crept closer, slower and slower, until it looked like it was barely moving at all.

Suddenly, the Foreman bolted from the dispatch office, yelling orders to the workman. The workman scrambled about.

"Foreman!" called Duck's driver. "What's going on?"

"The wind is too strong!" the Foreman yelled as he jogged over. "It's blowing that ship back out to sea. She'll never survive in those breakers. They'll tear that little ship to pieces!"

"Oh, dear," Percy squeaked quietly.

"I'm having my men set up spotlights so the helmsman can at least see where he is, but I doubt they'll ever make it here. The wind is just too strong."

Duck pondered a moment. "Beg pardon, sir…"

"What is it, Duck?"

"If we had enough rope to reach them," the Great Western Engine said slowly, "could Percy and I pull them to shore?"

Percy was surprised. "Us? Tow the boat in?"

The Foreman put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm…I don't know." He looked up at the two drivers. "What do you think?"

"If that boat can't make it to shore, she'll go down for certain," Percy's driver said. "The crew will never make it. I think if there's any chance that we can help, we have to try."

Everyone agreed. Even Percy, who had his doubts.

"I'll have the men start lashing together all the cable we have," the Foreman said, and he quickly hurried away.

"Do you think we can do it?" Percy asked.

"For the sake of everyone onboard that ship," Duck replied, "We had better be able."

"C'mon, you two," said Percy's driver. "Let's get into position."

The ship had already been blown half of a mile back out to sea. The two engines quickly moved to the line that ran out onto the pier to get as close to the ship as they could. Percy went in front with Duck, the heavier of the two, behind to act as an anchor. They also coupled on two brake vans behind Duck to help keep the two engines from being pulled off the end of the pier. As they rolled down the pier line, they dropped sand on the rails and rolled it firm with their wheels, a trick they had learned from Stepney. They stopped a few yards from the end of the pier.

The workman had tied together every piece of strong cable they had. Attached to the end was a buoy, which they pushed off the key side. The current carried the buoy out to sea. The Foreman quickly tried to signal to the ship's captain to capture it.

As they waited for the line to reach the ship, Workman fastened the other end of the long cable to Percy, wrapping the line all the way around his coal bunker and securing it to his buffer beam.

Presently, the buoy reached the ship. Sailors reached over the gunwales to haul it aboard. They fastened the cable to the ship's anchor chain. The Foreman watched them through binoculars. When the crew on the deck of the ship began to wave their arms frantically, he turned to the engines. "They're tied on. You may start when ready."

"Peep peep!" whistled Duck. "Are you ready?"

"Pip pip peep!" Percy whistled back nervously. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Take up the slack slowly, now," Percy's driver instructed. "Backwards, slow."

The two engines inched backwards, slowly taking up the play in the line. The Foreman quickly scrambled into the lead brake van for protection in case the line snapped.

The line pulled taught, and Percy and Duck came to a standstill. "Careful, now!" called the Foreman. "Don't snap the line!"

But before the engines could begin hauling, the line _*twang*_ -ed with tension as a huge gust of wind puffed against the ship. It began to drag the engines slowly toward the end of the pier.

"Peep! Peep!" Percy whistled frantically. "Brakes! Brakes!"

Both engines braked hard. The workman set the two vans' brakes on as well, but still they slid toward the water.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Duck muttered.

Percy hit the buffers at the end of the pier and they finally came to a stop. The buffers creaked and strained against the force being put against them. Percy could hear the wood cracking and splintering as the stress threatened to rip the buffers from their mount.

"Quick, you two!" yelled Percy's driver, "Now's our chance! Pull hard, but go slowly!"

The drivers released the brakes. Both engines pulled back with all their might, but moving slowly so that their wheels would not lose traction. Their taught couplings soon slackened and Duck's rear buffers inched closer to those of the first brake van.

"Release the brakes! Hurry!" shouted the foreman, and the workmen complied. When Duck's buffers touched the brake van's, it rolled and allowed he and Percy to continue.

"Peep! Peep! We're doing it! We're doing it!" Percy called excitedly.

"Careful, now!" cautioned the driver. "Easy does it!"

Suddenly, Duck's wheels began to spin backwards. Percy couldn't hold the weight on his own and his wheels began to slip, too. The ship began to pull them back to the end of the pier again. The workmen in the brake vans quickly set the brakes again to hold the engines back.

"More sand!" called Duck. "MORE SAND!"

The firemen activated their engines' sanding gears and the drivers carefully reduced steam to slow the spinning drive wheels. Just as Percy was about to hit the buffers again, both engines regained traction. They gave a great heave.

"Grrrrr!" Percy strained.

"You sound…errr…like a diesel…growling like that, Percy," Duck gasped as he pulled with all his strength.

"I'd like to…GRRRRRR!...see a diesel…*pant*…pull like this!" the little tank engine coughed back.

Slowly but surely, the engines reversed, towing in the little ship inches at a time. Rain pelted their boilers and waves crashed against the pier's pilings, the salty spray splashing against their faces and stinging their eyes. Still, they struggled on.

Halfway to land, Duck's fireman raised an alarm. "We're nearly out of sand!" he cried.

"I'll take care of this!" The foreman yelled back. He jumped down from the lead brake van and ran to the yard as quickly as he could. He found the rest of his workmen taking shelter in a storage shed. "We need your help," he explained. "Grab all the sandbags and shovels you can find and bring them out to the pier. We need to sand the rails!"

The workmen sprang into action, throwing sand bags into wheelbarrows and rushing out to the key. They broke open the bags and shoveled sand directly onto the rails behind the two engines' wheels so that they would not slip.

Before they knew it, Percy and Duck had crossed the end of the pier and were back on solid ground. The workmen followed along with their sand and shovels as the engines slowly worked backwards. Occasionally, their wheels would slip, and their drivers would skillfully check their speed so that they regained traction.

The ship drew closer. It was now only one hundred yards from the end of the pier.

"We're…doing…it! We're…doing…it!" panted Duck and Percy together. Another few minutes of labored pulled coaxed the ship closer and closer. The engines were now nearly outside the harbor. The cable that connected them to the ship stretched all the way through the yard. If it snapped, the recoiling cable could cause a great deal of harm, so the foreman was sure to keep everyone clear.

"You two are doing great!" called the foreman. "You're almost there! Just a little bit further!"

Percy didn't think he had ever pulled so hard in his entire life. He felt as though he were about to burst, but he struggled on.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he suddenly shrieked. "My boiler! I'm going to burst!"

"There's too much steam pressure!" the fireman cried. He quickly dampened down Percy's fire.

Duck's driver reduced steam and they slowed almost to a stop. The Great Western Engine strained to keep tension on the cable.

Presently, Percy began to feel better as the pressure was released from his steam chest. The two engines began to pull again. For five minutes more, they struggled on.

At last, the ship was near enough to the shore for its lines to reach the dock. The sailors threw their lines to the shore. Only one of them made it all the way to land. Two workmen quickly grabbed it and made it fast to a piling.

They were just in time. With a crack like a rifle, the cable suddenly snapped, the ends flying apart with great speed. The end still attached to the boat sliced right through some empty oil drums, but fortunately, no one was hurt.

With no resistance holding them back, Percy and Duck suddenly shot backwards. Their drivers shut off steam and applied the brakes. The two tank engines came to a stop, panting hard.

"Did we do it?" Percy panted.

"I wish I knew," Duck replied quietly. "I cannot see the ship from here."

Meanwhile, the workmen were busily fastening more lines to the ship from the keyside. Soon, the little fishing vessel was lashed securely to the key and all of the crew aboard had safely made it to land.

Percy and Duck slowly rolled up beside the key where they were met with applause audible over the wind and thunder.

"Great job, you two!" The foreman called. "You did splendidly!"

Duck and Percy smiled at each other, tired, but triumphant.

The two engines and their crews took shelter in a goods shed at the harbor as the storm raged outside. The four men took to looking over Percy to make sure that his boiler had not been damaged from the excessive steam pressure.

Duck had just closed his eyes in the hopes of dozing off when the foreman approached along with another man.

"Percy, Duck, this is Captain Charles," the foreman said. "It was his boat that you two saved."

"Indeed," said Captain Charles. "Without your very brave efforts, my ship surely would have been lost, likely along with everyone aboard. I cannot thank you enough."

Percy and Duck had no idea what to say. They just beamed.


	2. Boco's Chase

Boco's Chase

The big storm left a trail of destruction in its path, but the railway was left mostly unscathed, with just minor damage done to a few stations and signal boxes.

The following morning, Sir Topham Hatt addressed the engines.

"There isn't time to do a full proper inspection of the track with so many delays," he said, "So I will be enforcing a strict reduced speed limit for the entire line. Please report any damage you may come across, and repair crews will be dispatched to mend the track."

Soon all of the engines were hard at work, though much more slowly than usual. Gordon grumbled about it dreadfully.

"If I have to go slower, I'll stick on the hill for sure," he groaned as he waited for his coaches.

James laughed at him. "Maybe I should pull the express today, then. If you're so worried about getting stuck, I mean."

Gordon glared. "Leaves," he growled.

James went red in the face and angrily puffed away. Gordon thought it was quite amusing.

Henry, meanwhile, had gone to the docks early to fetch a heavy goods train that had been delayed from the previous evening. To help catch up to the schedule again, some more trucks that had been scheduled for delivery to the same destination had been added to the train.

"It's alright," he thought. "Just a few extra vans. Nothing I can't handle."

Henry was right. He struggled a bit starting off, but once the train was moving, he found it easy.

Until, that is, he reached Gordon's Hill.

With such a heavy load, he normally would have charged the hill, but the reduced speed limit meant he couldn't gain momentum. The weight of the heavy trucks dragged behind him, and soon he found himself going slower and slower. Halfway up, Henry came to a stop.

"Bother! I'm sure to cause some delays now."

Henry gave it a valiant effort, but his wheels just slipped on the rails. No matter what he did, he could not start the train moving again.

"I suppose we'll have to call for a banker engine," sighed the driver.

"Wonderful," muttered Henry. "James is sure to laugh at me now."

Just then, Boco crested the top of the hill with the works train, coming from the other direction.

"Peep peep!" Henry whistled.

Boco slowed to a stop. "Are you alright, Henry?" he asked kindly.

"I'm stuck," he said simply. "Could you please help me up the hill? I'm already late as it is."

The diesel smiled. "Of course I can!" he replied. "Just let me drop my train at the station."

He descended the hill and hurried to Edward's Station where he left the works train, then crossed over to the other line. A few minutes later, he was buffering up to Henry's brake van.

"Poop! Poop!" Boco tooted. "Are you ready?"

"Peep peep peep!" Henry whistled back. "Yes, I am!"

It was hard work to get the train moving again, but the two engines finally managed to make it to the top where Henry stopped again to pin the trucks' brakes.

"Peep peep! Thank you, Boco!"

"Poop! Poop! You're welcome, Henry!"

And with that, Boco returned to his train.

James was chuckling to himself with glee when Percy arrived. "What's so funny, James?" the small engine asked.

"Henry couldn't make it up the hill yesterday!" James chortled. "He had to have help from a _diesel!"_

Percy was puzzled. "Yes, I heard, from Boco. What's wrong with that?"

James had never liked diesels. Ever since the engine named Diesel had fooled James and the other engines into distrusting Duck to cover up his short comings, James had seen all diesels as vile and lazy, even kind, hard-working ones like Boco.

"Oh, little Percy, you simply don't understand." James could hear Henry approaching from behind, and he spoke loudly so that Henry would hear him. "Maybe it's alright for you little branch line engines to accept help, but we main line engines are a proud bunch. We are the _backbone_ of the line! Having to accept help from a diesel, well! That simply is not dignified."

Percy frowned. "But I like Boco. He's friendly."

Henry rolled in to the station on the other line. He had heard what James had said.

"And I suppose you would have been able to make it up the hill," Henry snorted.

James laughed. "I never need help!"

"What about the leaves?"

"That was different!" James sputtered nervously. "The rails were slippery! _You_ had dry rails!"

"And a speed restriction and an overloaded train!" Henry protested indignantly.

The guard gave the all clear, and James whistled as he started away. "Excuses, excuses!"

The trucks rattled as James rolled over the points onto the "up" line.

"I never need help!" he boasted to no one in particular. " _I_ am a proper engine!" And he gave his trucks a bump to prove it.

The trucks didn't appreciate being bumped. "James is getting too big for his buffers," they chittered. "He needs to be taught a lesson or two! Hold back on the hill!"

The trucks behaved well as James hurried along, and he thought he had them well under control. They made good time through Edward's Station. Gordon's Hill lay beyond, and James began to go faster.

"Whoa, old boy!" the driver said, checking James's speed. "There's still a speed restriction in effect."  
"Oh. Fine, then," James said. "I can show Henry the way a proper engine climbs hills."

They began to climb. The trucks' chance had come. "Hold back! Hold back!" they whispered.

James felt his coupling strain and he pulled harder.

"C'MON, you!" he groaned. "Get MOVING!"

Try as he might, James found himself losing speed. Before he knew it, he had come to a dead stop. Behind him, the silly trucks giggled, feeling quite pleased with themselves.

"It's no good, James," the driver said. "We'll have to call for a 'banker.'"

James let off steam angrily. He said nothing.

The guard walked to the call box and phoned down the line to Edward's Station. He returned a few minutes later. "Good news!" he said. "A branch line train just arrived at the station, so they're sending up the engine right away to help."

James sighed. "Well, at least I'll be able to get moving again. I just hope they don't send-." A horn sounded behind him. "Oh, no…"

"Hullo, James!" came a friendly greeting.

 _Of all the engines they could have sent,_ thought James. "Hello, Boco," he replied under his breath.

Boco took no notice and gently buffered up to the brake van. "We'll soon get you moving again, James! Ready when you are!"

James huffed and whistled in reply that he was ready. Boco tooted back and slowly began to push. So anxious to get away from Boco before another engine could see him needing help, James started too quickly and his wheels spun. Since Boco was pushing from behind, the trucks suddenly found themselves roughly sandwiched between the two engines, and they were not pleased.

"Easy now, James," said the driver, and carefully eased back on the regulator. James' wheels gripped again and he pulled as hard as he could. Smoke poured from James' funnel as he angrily snorted up the hill.

"C'mon!...C'mon!" he groaned. "Almost there!"

Finally, James reached the top of the hill. He should have stopped to set the brakes on the trucks, but he was so anxious to leave Boco behind before any other engines saw him that he kept on pulling as hard as he could.

As James crested the hill, the trucks saw an opportunity to pay James out. "On! On! On!" They surged forward, knocking the guard right off the brake van.

"No no no!" yelped James, but it was too late. He had lost his control over the trucks.

Boco heard the trucks cry out and suddenly saw the brake van quickly accelerating away from his buffers as the guard tumbled off the side into the grass. "Oh, no!"

James let out a long, panicked whistle. "HELLLLP!"

Boco's driver was worried. "They'll crash for sure! James will never be able to stop those cars by himself! After him!"

"Yes, after him!" the diesel replied as his driver increased power. The hill allowed Boco to pick up speed very quickly, and soon he was rocketing after James's train.

James's wheels pounded the rails as he sped through Maron station, still whistling in terror. Boco wasn't far behind, and gaining fast.

"We'll never be able to hold back the trucks," observed the driver, "and even if we could, there's no way to couple you to the brake van."

"Then we'll have to help him brake from the front."

"Right. When we pass a signal box, hopefully we'll be able to signal to them to switch us onto the other line."

"Then all we have to do is overtake James before he can derail."

The driver chuckled nervously. "Easier said than done."

As it turned out, it was relatively easy. James's brakes were not very effective against the surging trucks, but he had succeeded in stopping the train from gaining speed. Running full-bore, Boco was soon catching up.

The diesel spotted a signal box ahead and sounded his horn. "Poop! Pooooop! It's a runaway! Switch me to the middle line, quickly!"

The signalman was not quite sure what was happening, but he quickly changed the points as soon as James's train was clear. Boco's wheels ground on the rails as he thundered over the switches.

"Go it, Boco! We're gaining!" cried the driver. "Atta boy!"

"We'll catch him! We'll catch him!" Boco was just barely out-running James. Another mile down the line and he was pulling up even with the brake van on the end of James's train. "Here we come! Here we come!"

James was still whistling loudly in terror. He had no idea Boco was chasing him until he suddenly saw the diesel beside him.

"Hullo, James!"

"BOCO?!

Boco didn't reply. He was already pulling in front. By the time they reached the next station, Boco was a quarter mile ahead of James. "Poop poop! There's a runaway coming! Switch me to the other line!"

A quick thinking shunter threw a switch just beyond the station platform. Boco felt as though he would tip over at the sudden change in direction. "Whoa!" James and his trucks flew past a moment later, whistling loudly.

"Well, we're ahead of him," observed the driver, slightly reducing speed. "Now we just have to carefully slow down and help him brake to a stop."

They raced passed a signal. It was set at 'danger.' "And we'd better do it fast," Boco replied.

The line here curved gently for several hundred yards, making nearly a quarter of a circle. This allowed Boco to clearly see the line far ahead, beyond the curve. A goods yard was there, with a small platform on the main line. It quickly became obvious why the signal was up. Douglas had just shunted a line of fuel tankers to the platform and was now backing away off the main line, into the yard.

"Driver, look!"

"Glory!" the driver exclaimed. "And we'll never stop James in time to avoid hitting those tankers!"

"If we hit them, they might explode!" Boco cried. "And an awful lot of people work at that yard."

"You're right. A lot of workman could be hurt. But how can we possibly stop James in time?"

They began to round the long curve. They had to think of something quickly.

"We can derail James," Boco offered. "Better to derail him before he…and us…hit the tankers than to derail in a fiery explosion from hitting them."

"That is true. But how do we derail him?"

Boco could think of no other way. "We stop."

The driver looked back at James, a hundred yards or so behind them. Then he looked ahead to the goods platform, rapidly growing in the distance. "You're right, old boy. I don't see another way. We have got to stop James no matter what before he hits those tankers." His hands fell to the throttle and brake levers. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, driver."

They reached the end of the curve. The driver took a deep breath. "One…two…" The fuel tankers were now as far ahead as James was behind.

"THREE!" The driver simultaneously shut off power and applied the brakes on full. With no momentum but that of Boco's weight to stop, the diesel slowed rapidly.

James saw the gap between him and Boco quickly vanishing. "AHHHH!" he shrieked, and shut his eyes.

James crashed into Boco with such force that his wheels briefly lifted completely into the air, as did Boco's rear truck. Neither landed back on the rails. James's wheels crunched on the sleepers and ballast as he bounced along.

The collision shot Boco forward again, and he rattled along for quite a distance further. When he crossed the switch leading into the goods yard, which were set against him, his derailed rear truck caught in the points. A horrible squeal filled the air as the rails were ripped from their sleepers. Boco was turned over onto his side. He slid along, carving a deep rut into the earth as he neared the end of the platform. He shut his eyes as he crashed into the old wooden ramp, and that was where he came to rest, just alongside the fuel tankers.

Behind him, James had flipped over onto his side as well, and he and his trucks had tumbled down a small embankment beside the line, well before where Boco had hit the switch that led into the yard. His front was badly twisted and his boiler dented. The crank pins had sheared off of his left wheels, the siderod lodged into the ground like a javelin several yards away. Several of the trucks were in pieces, their cargo scattered about.

Douglas saw the crash and rushed to the edge of the yard, but found he could go no further. The rails had been torn apart at the switch.

"Losh sakes…" he whispered as he surveyed the damage. "Don' ye worry yerselves!" he called as he reversed back into the yard. "Help is com'n!"

From beneath the remains of the platform, Boco observed the fuel tankers sitting on the rails just beside him. They were still intact. He had succeeded in stopping James.

But at what cost?

"Driver?" he asked timidly, afraid of the response he might not hear. "Are you alright?"

For several seconds, Boco heard only silence. Then he heard something inside his cab shift. "Yes, Boco," came a pained voice. "I'm alright. Though I probably need to go to hospital…I hit my head pretty badly…"

It wasn't long at all before help arrived. Percy was there first, with a single coach to take the two engines' crews to hospital. James's driver and fireman were both significantly injured, though thankfully still conscious. As soon as the three men had been helped aboard, Percy rushed off. Five minutes later, Edward arrived with the breakdown train. He parked one crane near James and the other, along with the works coach, beside Boco, then switched over to the other line. He collected the fuel tankers and then he, too, quickly vacated the scene.

James lay on his side with his eyes closed as the workmen began clearing up the mess, feeling both silly for allowing the runaway to happen in the first place and furious with Boco for causing him to crash. In the many years James had worked on the Island of Sodor, he had never had an accident that caused him to become this badly damaged.

"Care to explain what happened, James?"

James opened his eyes to find Sir Topham Hatt standing before him.

"Sir! I, um…well, you see, sir, I…er, the trucks pushed me down the hill, sir – Uh, before I could stop to pin their brakes, sir - and then Boco overtook me, sir, and then, sir, I don't know why, sir, but that dumb diesel just stopped right in front of me, sir, and caused me to crash!"

The Fat Controller folded his arms and glared. "Is that so? Because Boco's explanation is a little different."

James went pale. "Er, what did he say, sir?"

"He said that he was helping you up the hill and before you had a chance to stop and pin the brakes on your trucks, they pushed you down the hill. He chased after you to help you stop. Once he overtook you he saw that there were fuel tankers on the line ahead…" James's eyes went wide. He had never seen the fuel tankers. He suddenly realized that Boco had likely prevented a fiery explosion by causing him to crash. "…he knew the only way to stop you in time was to derail you."

James felt very ashamed of himself. "Is…is Boco alright, sir?"

"Quite heavily damaged, I'm afraid, as are you. I think," he continued, "that you are both not telling me the whole story. Perhaps Boco does not know, perhaps he does, but you do, don't you, James?"

James quivered.

"You made fun of Henry this morning for needing help on the hill, did you not?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And when you needed help, too, you just wanted to get on before anyone saw you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you didn't _want_ to stop, even to pin your trucks' brakes."

"Yes, sir."

Sir Topham Hatt turned and took a few steps. "You've worked on my railway for many years, James, and I've thought time and again that you had overcome your vanity, but you never learn. And this time, you've caused a nasty accident. Now I'm going to be short two engines, three until the switch can be repaired for Douglas to leave this yard. You've caused a great amount of confusion and delay, and damage, and injury to both your crew and Boco's." He paused for effect. "I'm very disappointed in you, James."

He turned back around to face the red engine again. "However, thanks to Boco's quick thinking and bravery, he prevented what could have been a massive disaster. I know you've never trusted diesels, but Boco is one of the most hardworking engines on my railway, and he deserves your trust. I hope that you will remember that when you return to service."

"Yes, sir. I will, sir."

"Good. Your damage is quite extensive, so I am sending you to Crewe instead of the works. They will be better equipped to handle your repairs. It will definitely be expensive, though, as will Boco's repairs, so when you return, you will be doing a lot of extra work to make up for it, correct?"

"Oh, yes, sir, definitely sir!" James said quickly.

"Good. Though, I think you still need some punishment." He paused again, thoughtfully. "I'll let you choose your punishment, James. You'll have plenty of time to think about it while you're being repaired." He grinned. James did not like the look of that. "Would you rather be painted blue or green?"

And with that, Sir Topham Hatt walked away, leaving a mortified James behind him.

Cleaning up the mess took a very long time. Percy and Edward had to work very hard clearing away the debris, bringing in new sleepers and rails to repair the track, and moving the breakdown cranes around to reach all of the derailed trucks. At last, James and Boco had each been loaded onto flatbed cars. Edward pulled Boco back to the yard and Percy took James. They parked the flatbeds on sidings side-by-side. James could barely look at Boco.

"Ah, good. You've both made it back," Sir Topham Hatt said when he came to see them. "Tomorrow, Edward will take you to the works, Boco, and James, you will go to the mainland on Henry's good train to start you on your way to Crewe. Oh, and Boco," he said, "Good job."

"Thank you, sir," the diesel replied solemnly.

All night long, the two engines sat on their respective flatbeds. Boco went painfully to sleep. James could not. He spent all night trying to think of something to say to Boco, but nothing seemed right.

In the morning, Edward came to take Boco away. He was coupled up and whistled. "Are you ready, Boco?" he asked kindly.

"Yes, Edward," Boco replied quietly. "I'm ready."

Edward started off.

"Edward, wait!" James suddenly yelled.

Edward gently braked to a stop.

James froze. "I…I…I'm sorry, Boco," he finally choked out. "Thank you for stopping me before I caused an even worse accident. If it hadn't been for you…"

Boco gave a small smile, as did Edward. "I know you're sorry, James. And you're welcome."

Edward whistled again and started off once more. James watched Boco disappear into the distance, feeling oddly relieved.

I think James has finally learned his lesson about pride, don't you?


End file.
